


Anchor

by vickjawn (awshitzombies)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, M/M, Medical Trauma, Sexual Content, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 05:52:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7210559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awshitzombies/pseuds/vickjawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What you will go through is highly confidential,” another scientist says. “And not all of you will return for more.”</p><p>It’s goddamned ominous, as far as Reyes is concerned. One look at how excited Morrison is by the whole thing, though, and Reyes knows he’s in it for the long run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anchor

**Author's Note:**

> First real foray into writing for this dumb stupid pairing, so let me know what you think! :) Unbeta'd, and I usually don't write in third person present tense, so hopefully I didn't fudge it up.

Morrison drops a piece of paper on the table next to Reyes, his eyes wide and as blue as they’ve ever been as he asks, “Are you gonna join me?”

Reyes recognizes the flyer; they’re all over the base now, and he’s seen people from the program handing them out to their fellow recruits at lunch time. “Maybe,” he offers, frowning a little. “Seems a little shady.”

“It’s new,” Morrison says, as if that’s a good explanation. “But it’s being funded by the government and seems legit. A lot of world famous companies are backing it, too. Come on, Gabe, this could be something really new and exciting!”

“Don’t call me Gabe,” Reyes tells him for the thousandth fucking time. After living with the kid for almost a year, it was more of a reflex now. Even his mother couldn’t get away with calling him that, for fuck’s sake, but Morrison didn’t seem to care.

“Commander Thompson says I have a good shot at being accepted,” Morrison says, flashing a dazzling, excited grin.

“Well no shit, kid, you could charm your way into the damn White House.”

Morrison just rolls his eyes. He’s used to Reyes’ needling. “I’ll only apply if you do.”

Reyes had been considering it, honestly, if only because he’s bored with the work here. The supposed physical perks are a definite plus, even if the methods are a little shady.

“All right,” he says and tries not to smile at Morrison’s whoop of joy.

~

The next week, the company responsible for developing the super soldier program pays a visit. A good portion of the base shows up for the presentation, and Morrison and Reyes are among the first to arrive, per Morrison’s insistence. The only other time Reyes can recall Morrison actually waking up before him was the first day the mess hall started serving real bacon and eggs.

“Stand still,” Reyes hisses to the ball of energy next to him, who is currently bouncing on his heels. “Fuckin’ shit, kid, do you have an off switch?”

Morrison just flashes him a dazzling grin. “You know me,” he says, and yeah, by now, Reyes does. The word “annoying” immediately comes to mind, quickly followed by “endearing” and “dumb.”

The presentation starts, giving Reyes a quick escape from his thoughts. There’s a long slideshow and several scientists and health officials who stand up to speak about their new soldier enhancement procedures.

“The program is still fairly new,” one of them says, “as are its methods. Should you be accepted, you will undergo a series of treatments once a day until we start seeing results.”

“What kind of results?” someone shouts from the back row, as if reading Reyes’ mind.

“Physical,” a scientist pipes up as he adjusts his glasses. “Ideally, your stamina, muscle mass, pain tolerance, and overall physiology will be enhanced. You will be transformed into the best and most powerful soldiers the world has ever seen.”

Reyes hums, intrigued but still not entirely convinced. It isn’t the first time someone has proposed a “super soldier” program, though to be fair, this is the first one who has backing from the government.

“What you will go through is highly confidential,” another scientist says. “And not all of you will return for more.”

It’s goddamned ominous, as far as Reyes is concerned. One look at how excited Morrison is by the whole thing, though, and Reyes knows he’s in it for the long run, assuming they get accepted.

Later that night, Reyes reads over the huge amount of paperwork for the program tries not to listen in on a phone call Morrison is having with his parents. He called to tell them about the new program, but judging by the desperate tone in Morrison’s voice now, things aren’t going as planned.

“Ma,” Morrison is saying, “Mama, will you let me explain what it is before you jump to conclusions? Mama, please…”

And so it goes for about an hour - Reyes pretending to read and Morrison begging his mother to put his father on the phone. Eventually she must have, because Morrison’s tone becomes colder, more formal, as he plainly explains what he’s going to do. There are a lot of yes sirs and no sirs, and for the first time since Reyes joined the military, he entertains the idea of taking some time off to see his own family back in LA.

Eventually Morrison says his goodbyes and hangs up. He sits on the edge of his bed for some time, head in his hands, silent.

“All right?” Reyes offers when the silence becomes too much.

Morrison jerks, apparently unaware that Reyes was in the room. “Yeah,” he says quickly, forcing a smile onto his face. “Just...the folks are concerned about the program. Worried about what kind of effects it might have on me.”

“Your parents are smart people, then.”

“Yeah.” Morrison sniffs, trying to make it nonchalant. He chews on his lip for a second, then blurts, like he’s ripping off a bandaid, “I was supposed to come home.”

Reyes cocks a curious brow. “After your time was up here?”

Morrison nods, suddenly looking years younger than he already was. “It’s like, family tradition to do a brief stint in the army, then come home to work on the farm. My dad did it, so did his dad. But…” He shrugs, frowning down at the ground. “I don’t want to go back there.”

Reyes wasn’t about to open that can of worms, so he just reached under his bed and tossed the kid a beer from his stash.

“I’m underage,” Morrison says, staring down at the beer in his hands like he’s concerned it’s going to bite him.

“Only for like, another two months,” Reyes points out, rolling his eyes. “Look, if you’re old enough to risk your damn life in some weird super soldier program, I think you’re old enough to have a goddamn beer.”

“You’re such an enabler.” Morrison is already cracking open the can and taking a swig. The face he makes at the taste wrenches a laugh out of Reyes, who opens his own beer and joins him.

“To getting accepted,” Reyes proposes, lifting the can.

Morrison coughs and clinks his can against Reyes’. “And not dying a terrible death after.”

“Amen,” Reyes mutters.

~

It takes a week for all the applicants to be sorted through by the company. Only a handful from all around the world are approved for the program in the end, and Reyes and Morrison get word that they’re among the lucky few from their base. Another three days later, they're flown out to a highly confidential location somewhere deep in the Rockies. The building they’re led to is built into a portion of the mountain; from the skies, it's impossible to detect.

After a brief tour of the large base, they're given the chance to get situated in their new living quarters. Somehow Reyes and Morrison wind up as roomies again, though this time Reyes doesn’t complain quite as much as he had the first time he got stuck with John "leaves his dirty-ass socks on the bathroom floor and drinks out of the milk carton no matter how many times he's told not to" Morrison as a roommate.

Later on, they’re all gathered up and brought into a large room filled with rows of cold, uncomfortable-looking medical chairs. Above them, cords and wires and other concerning devices hang from the dark ceiling. The sight is very unnerving, and Reyes is glad he’s not the only one looking a little uncertain by the whole thing.

Out of the whole group, Morrison is the only one who looks truly excited. He volunteers to go first, of course, and eagerly climbs into the chair offered to him. He’s smiling the whole while he’s being hooked up, though his gaze keeps straying to Reyes’. Reyes isn’t sure if he’s trying to reassure him everything was going to be okay or if he was seeking some comfort of his own.

Before Reyes can decide, the scientists are flicking some switches and pushing some buttons on a console along the far wall, and the smile is wiped off Morrison’s face as chemicals and toxins and who knows what the fuck else are suddenly surging through his body. His hands instantly start gripping the arms of the chair and he bears his teeth in a pained grimace, but it’s not enough.

He screams for the next ten seconds and vomits all over himself, and then scientists finally shut off the machines. Morrison instantly slumps in his seat, twitching and gasping and looking downright miserable. It’s the first time Reyes has ever seen Morrison looking so flustered and lost. He decides quite quickly that he hates that look on him.

“As you can see,” one of the scientist calmly says, “it’s not a pleasant process. There will be side effects.”

“No fuckin’ shit,” Reyes mutters under his breath.

The scientists take Morrison’s vitals, deem him still functioning, and unhook him, but he doesn’t move out of the chair, still far too much in shock. They beckon the other recruits to come get him, but Reyes is the only one who moves to pull his friend up, not giving a shit that he’s covered in vomit or that he might’ve pissed himself a little.

"Gabe," is all Morrison can choke out.

"You're okay," Reyes offers quietly, lowering the man to the ground by the exit.

He goes through the process next, if only so he can get back to Morrison. He manages not to vomit, but only just; the pain is unbelievable - maddening, in a way, because even after they stop the process and unhook him, he still feels it - the burning in his limbs and the twisting agony in his chest that makes it nearly impossible to breathe. It’s hands down the worst thing Reyes has ever felt in his life - and it’s only day one.

Somehow, they manage to make it back to their shared quarters in the facility. Morrison’s legs aren’t behaving, which makes the trip take about fifteen minutes longer, but Reyes can’t open his mouth to complain about it even if he wants to. It’s all they could do but support each other as they hobble home.

Once inside their modest apartment, they collapse into a pile of trembling limbs onto Morrison’s bed - the closest one to the door. Morrison whimpers and groans through gritted teeth as Reyes manages to get him out of his ruined shirt and pants before his arms decided they’ve had enough moving for one day. Morrison grabs him before he can retreat to his own bed, and Reyes is far too exhausted to protest as he’s hauled down next to his roommate.

In the morning, Reyes wakes achy and nauseous, but at least the burning agony in his veins is manageable now. Morrison still looks ready to cry, but he showers and gets dressed with scarcely a word.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as they’re leaving to go grab breakfast in the mess hall. “About passing out in bed with you.”

Reyes just shrugs, only to wince and hiss at the pain it brings him. He never expected to find himself waking up in bed with Morrison of all people - at least not unless there’d been a night of intense drinking beforehand - but he isn’t opposed to the idea, really. It sure as hell beat going through this shit alone, anyway.

“Just buy me dinner first next time,” he says, and Morrison grins for the first time in twelve hours.

~

Day two of treatment isn’t any better. As they predicted, some people don’t return for it, and those that do look just as shitty and hungover as Reyes and Morrison. At least their suffering is mutual, Reyes finds himself thinking as Morrison leans into him, too tired to stand on his own.

This time, they’re strapped into the chairs and forced to sit there for nearly an hour with a constant stream of foreign chemicals being pumped into their bodies. The pain isn’t as intense as it was the first time, but there’s no denying its presence.

Beside him, Morrison is gasping on his own ragged noises. A part of Reyes yearns to reach over and touch his hand to Morrison’s - a silent reassurance that he was there, it was okay - but he can’t move. He, like everyone else, is trapped inside his own head and pain-rattled body.

Halfway through the session, one of the others starts screaming to be let out, to be let go. The scientists appear and release him, and he crawls out the door, no doubt never to return. For a split second Reyes entertains the idea of joining him, but he shoves those thoughts down. He’s better than that, dammit.

Afterwards, Morrison can’t stand and Reyes has to carry him back to their room. Reyes thinks he’s made it out in one piece this time until he tries to take a shower and wakes up on the bathroom floor in a puddle of blood from his nose. Jack is screaming in the bedroom as his body continues to react violently to the chemicals, as is whoever lives next door to them.

Beyond exhausted, Reyes lies there on the floor, trembling and drifting in and out of consciousness until a loud bang on the bathroom door wakes him.

“Gabe,” Morrison’s sobbing as he pounds weakly on the door. “Gabe, Gabe.”

Despite the agony crippling his bones, Reyes manages to crawl his way over to the door and unlock it. Morrison practically falls into him; they lie together in a tangled heap on the bathroom floor for the rest of the night, until feeling returns to Morrison’s limbs and he’s able to drag both of them back to bed.

Reyes doesn’t protest being wrapped up in the same bed as Morrison again, and when Morrison apologizes for it again the next morning when they’re both cognizant, Reyes just shrugs.

“Beats going through this alone,” he offers, and Morrison gratefully bobs his head in agreement. “You still owe me dinner, though. Two dinners now.”

Morrison laughs, and it’s music to Reyes’ ears. “Fair enough.”

~

Day three is just as shitty as the other two had been, though it’s just more of the same. Reyes is pretty sure he passed out at one point during the four hour session of being strapped to the medical chair, but at least he catches up on some sleep that way.

The real trouble starts when Reyes wakes in the middle of the night to find Morrison rutting frantically against his leg. At first he thinks the kid is just dreaming or having a seizure, but as soon as Morrison realizes he’s awake, he swings himself into Reyes’ lap.

“Kid,” Reyes snaps, more concerned than offended or afraid. He lurches up, disregarding his aching muscles, and grabs Morrison by his shoulders, hoping the motion snaps him out of his lust-fueled stupor. “Morrison! What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“I can’t help it,” Morrison whimpers, fumbling with his cock. It’s so hard the tip of it is turning purple; it makes Reyes’ own cock ache in sympathy...or maybe that’s something else, he realizes as Morrison grinds down on him with all the enthusiasm of a twenty year old man.

“Easy,” Reyes hisses, unsure of whether or not he should push Morrison away. His dick sure knew what it wanted. “Go to the bathroom and take care of it.”

“Need you,” Morrison moans, shifting so that his cock was dragging along the bare skin of Reyes’ chest. They had gone to bed naked, as per usual these days, but only now did Reyes almost regret it. “Gabe, please, I’m sorry, I need this. I need you.”

“Just - don’t, it’s…” Reyes sucks in a breath as Morrison inches forward, straddling his chest now. He puts his cock between Reyes’ pecs and lays his palm over it as he begins to thrust his hips.

 _Seriously?_ Reyes thinks, and probably would have made a sarcastic quip to the kid, but Morrison's coming before he has the chance to even open his mouth. Morrison lets out a high-pitched, breathy little moan as he shakes and trembles through his orgasm, and all Reyes can do is bring his hands up to grip his thighs, trying to anchor him, but also maybe trying to convince himself that he's wide awake this is really happening.

Reyes gapes down at the thick ropes painting his chest, stunned by - well, damn near everything that’s happened, but mostly by the amount of come currently dribbling sluggishly into the valley between his pecs. “Christ, kid, have you jerked off at all, like, ever?” he exclaims, then rolls them over so that he can have his turn straddling the kid.

He’s got his knees on either side of Morrison’s flushed face when he freezes, suddenly aware of how fucked up this is. He swallows hard and stares down at the other man beneath him, halfway to being sick to his stomach. Morrison looks so very far from afraid or disgusted; his hungry gaze on Reyes’ cock makes it bob with interest.

Still, Reyes has to know. “Are you sure?” he rasps, sounding beyond strained as he reached down to run his fingers through Morrison's golden locks. “I need you to be fuckin’ sure of this, kid, I don’t want - we can blame it on the treatments and meds and shit and forget about this if you want.”

Morrison’s reply is to glare at him, then swallow his cock whole with an enthusiastic bob of his head.

Reyes will stand by his prowess in the bedroom until the day he ate shit, but it’s been a while since he’s last jerked off, never mind actually had sex, so he isn’t surprised when he comes down Morrison’s throat less than a minute later. Maybe it’s the medication, maybe it was a combination of Morrison’s lingering, less-than-subtle gazes he’s been sending Reyes since they became roommates back at the original base. Whatever the case, it’s good, so good, and leaves Reyes trembling on his arms until Morrison flips them back down onto the bed.

“So,” Reyes mumbles, “that happened.”

“Yeah,” Morrison says through a breathy, hoarse laugh. “Finally.”

Reyes’ half-closed eyes snap wide open. Before he can ask what the fuck that meant, Morrison leans up to kiss him, shutting him up and answering his question in one go. Reyes lets out a muffled “oh” and returns the kiss, tentative until Morrison moans and swipes his tongue across his lower lip. Then all bets are off, and for the first time since they started treatment, Reyes found himself thinking that it’s not all bad.

~

That mentality doesn’t last, of course. The fourth day leaves Morrison flat-out unconscious and Reyes unable to do more than scream through gritted teeth and twitch as his muscles spasm uncontrollably. He’s not sure how they manage to get back to their quarters, but at some point during the night he wakes up to find himself tangled tightly with Morrison in his bed.

Morrison is weeping into his neck and pawing uselessly at the sheets as his body changes from the inside out. Reyes draws him closer, if only to reassure him that he hasn’t died yet.

"It's okay," Reyes manages to choke out. Most of his jaw didn't seem to want to unlock.

They tremble together for a while, until Morrison’s able to fall back asleep. His warm breath puffing gently on Reyes’ neck helps calm him, even with the occasional tremor making him jerk, and eventually he’s able to drift off as well.

There are no apologies in the morning, nor are any words exchanged when they crawl into bed together again later that night.

~

Come the sixth day, they’re both nearing a breaking point. Only sixteen of the original twenty four applicants are still around, and Reyes assumes that they’ll lose another couple today.

He just doesn’t expect Morrison to be one of them.

“Get the hell up, kid,” he says that morning, nudging the lump on his bed. “We gotta get going.”

“I’m not doing it.”

“Morrison - ”

“I’m fucking _done_ , Gabe!” Morrison snarled, jerking up to send Reyes a fierce look that didn’t fit right on his handsome mug, even if said mug is currently pale and tainted by dark circles under his angry, wild eyes. “I can’t keep doing it. It’s killing me.”

“It’s making us stronger,” Reyes says, repeating what the scientists and doctors have been telling them for days.

“Is it? I sure as shoot don’t feel any stronger than I was at the start of this! I feel like I’m dying!”

“It’s only been a week,” Reyes reminds him, trying to keep his voice calm despite the irritation clotting his lungs. He realizes belatedly that it's not just irritation making it hard to talk. “They said it could take months to see any results.”

Jack shakes his head and curls into a ball beneath the blankets. “I can’t keep this up for another month,” he practically whimpers. “I can’t, I can’t.”

Reyes swallows hard. “Yeah, well, I can’t do this without you.”

The admission hangs heavy between them, and although Reyes is embarrassed, he can’t deny the fact that he feels lighter for admitting it. He isn't the only one afraid and in pain around here.

Eventually Jack sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. His hair's a mess, his expression beyond defeated and drawn tight. He doesn’t look much like the Jack “Sunshine” Morrison Reyes had grown to like, but even the sun has trouble shining some days.

“Okay,” Morrison rasps, eyes glued to the floor between them.

“Okay,” Reyes echoes, holding out his hand. Morrison takes it and has every intention of releasing it to go get ready for the day, but Reyes doesn't let him get away that easily. He draws the shorter man into an embrace - one that relays every ounce of gratitude and pride he feels for him.

"We've got this," Reyes tells him, voice muffled by the kid's hair.

"Okay," Morrison says again, and this time he sounds like he believes it.

~

The treatment that day is blessedly less painful, and they’re both able to walk back to their own beds that night. When Reyes wakes up on the morning of day seven, he finds Morrison, stark naked, flexing his arms in front of the full mirror attached to one of their closet doors.

“Holy crap,” he’s murmuring, wide eyes on the bulging muscle in his arm. Reyes hasn't taken the time to stare at his roommate’s body as of late, but now he has to admit that the kid looks a lot thicker than he had when they first met. There’s no way he’d get away with ribbing him about his “spindly farmer boy legs” anymore, at any rate.

Curious, Reyes throws the blanket off himself and joins him. His jaw drops when he realizes just how much he’s changed, too - thicker with muscle in most places, his legs especially, since his arms are already pretty toned. He stops to think about it and realizes he feels pretty good. The ache that’s been a constant presence in his life for the past couple of days is non-existent.

Morrison’s jaw is on the ground too as he observes his roommate up close. “Lord, Gabe, your thighs...!”

“Jesus,” Reyes mutters in agreement, running a hand down his chest. He can’t recall if he’d started showing changes like this earlier during the week. He and Morrison were in too much pain to notice much of anything, he reasons.

He tears his gaze away from his reflection to find Morrison still staring at him, eyes huge and blue and very, very hungry as they roam over his body.

“Can I…?” he asks, swallowing visibly.

Reyes’s lips twist with a smirk. “And what’ll you give me in return, huh?”

“Those two dinners I owe you and maybe a blowjob.”

A barking laugh escapes Reyes, but that’s all he can manage before Morrison has his mouth on him.

~

That day’s treatment is hardly more than an annoyance. They walk away chattering about what kind of slop the mess hall has to offer them for lunch, and later that night they actually manage to sneak out for one of the two dinners Morrison owes Reyes.

Day eight, they take a break from their sessions to do some physical training out in the field beneath the facility. Suddenly Reyes finds himself being able to bench press almost double his normal already impressive amount, and Morrison sprints through the entire training field a full minute and a half less than the shortest time on the base’s records - all without breaking a sweat. Their comrades, the few remaining, are just as amazing with their progress, and the scientists and medical officials are all very pleased.

Reyes loves it. He feels new, he feels powerful - he feels _alive_.

Gradually, things fall into a routine. The treatment stops completely after about a month of it, but training continues, pushing them all to their new limits. Things that Reyes used to struggle with now come to him as easily as breathing. There are whispers of a new special task force that the United Nations is putting together and there's a good chance they might reach out to the enhanced soldiers here - and since Reyes and Morrison are at the top of their class in terms of progress, the likelihood of them being chosen above the others is very high. Despite the lack of hormones and drugs surging through their veins, Reyes and Morrison still fuck, usually in the shower after a particularly amazing training session. Life is pretty goddamned good, as far as Reyes is concerned.

But as nice as all that is (and _goddamn_ is it nice), something is still awry. It hits Reyes late one night as he’s lying curled up beneath the thick covers of his bed: no longer in pain and needing comfort, he and Morrison have stopped sharing a bed - and goddammit, Reyes _misses_ it. He _misses_ having an extra sweaty lump lying next to him at night who will occasionally steal his blankets and drool on him. He must be losing his goddamned mind, he wagers, irritated. 

But apparently he isn’t the only one missing the comfort. One night about two months after their treatments, Reyes is nearly asleep in his big empty bed when his newly heightened senses make out Morrison hesitantly whispering his name from across their bedroom.

“Yeah?” he grunts out in reply. "What's wrong?"

Morrison hesitates. Reyes rolls over and squints through the darkness to see him sitting upright in his bed. He can’t see Morrison's expression, but he doesn’t need to.

“Get over here,” Reyes grumbles, scooting over.

A second later Morrison is practically cannon-balling into bed with him, making the whole structure shriek and groan in protest. Reyes grunts and mutters curses under his breath as the younger man yanks on the blankets and thrashes to get comfortable. When he feels the kid scooting up on him, he starts his own wiggling from within the confines of his newly-formed blanket burrito.

“Hell no - _you’re_ the little spoon,” he grouses, trying to roll onto his side. “Turn over.”

Morrison obeys without protest, practically purring with pleasure as Reyes scoots up close behind him. “G’night, Gabe,” he says through a heavy, pleased exhale.

Reyes waits until Morrison is asleep to mutter out a quiet, relieved, “Goodnight, Jack.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr: vickjawn.tumblr.com


End file.
